a little bit of truth can…

Enlightenment cannot be anything else other than entertainment… universal entertainment, a laughter that knows no bounds, no limits. Osho on Facebook Twitter

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

All the priests of all the religions are exploiting you because you are not enlightened, because you are not conscious. They have been sucking your blood all over the earth for thousands of years for the simple reason that you are asleep. And they go on giving you ideas, concepts which keep you asleep.

— Osho (The Sword and the Lotus)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

The way, the path, is very simple and can be made even more simple. But simplicity is against the priests, they want it to be complex—so complex that they are needed to interpret it; so complex that without a mediator it is impossible to grow in your understanding. The reason why religion looks so complex is because religion became a business, and priests found that unless it is complex enough, it will not be attractive enough either. It has to be complex, it has to be challenging, it has to be far away, and then the priest becomes an absolute necessity. And they have been exploiting in every possible way.

— Osho (Sermons in Stones)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

Two types of people are needed to run a temple: a learned person and a very stupid one. And this is how all temples are run—two types of people: the learned who have become the priests, and the stupid who follow them. This is how every temple is run. If stupid people disappear from the earth there will be no temples. If learned people disappear from the temples there will be no temples. A duality is needed for a temple to exist. That’s why you cannot find God in a temple—because you cannot find him in a duality. These temples are inventions of the clever people to exploit the stupid. All temples are inventions—clever people exploiting… they have become the priests.

Priests are the most clever people, they are the greatest exploiters, and they exploit in such a way that you cannot even revolt against them. They exploit you for your own sake, they exploit you for your own good. Priests are the most clever because they spin theories out of nothing: all the theologies, all that they have created—tremendous! Cleverness is needed to create religious theories. And they go on creating such big edifices that it is almost impossible for an ordinary man to enter those edifices. And they use such jargon, they use such technical terms, that you cannot understand what they are talking about. And when you cannot understand you think they are very profound. Whenever you cannot understand a thing you think it is very profound—‘It is beyond me.’

Remember this: Buddha speaks in a very ordinary language which can be understood by anybody. It is not the language of a priest. Jesus speaks in small parables—any uneducated man can understand it—he never uses any religious jargon. Mahavira talks, gives his teachings, in the language of the most ordinary and common people. Mahavira and Buddha never used Sanskrit, never, because Sanskrit was the language of the priest, the brahmin. Sanskrit is the most difficult language. Priests have made it so difficult—they have polished and polished and polished. The very word SANSKRIT means polishing, refining. They have refined it to such a pitch that only if you are very very learned can you understand what they are saying, otherwise it is beyond. Buddha used the language of the people, Pali. Pali was the language of the people, of the villagers. Mahavira used Prakrit. Prakrit is the unrefined form of Sanskrit; Prakrit is the natural form of Sanskrit—no grammar, not much. The scholar has not entered yet, he has not refined the words so they become beyond common people. But the priests have been using Sanskrit, they still use it. Nobody understands Sanskrit now, but they go on using Sanskrit because their whole profession depends on creating a gap, not a bridge—in creating a gap. If the common people cannot understand, only then the priests can survive. If the common people understand what they are saying they are lost, because they are saying nothing.

Once Mulla Nasruddin went to a doctor—and doctors have learned the trick from the priests: they write in Latin and Greek, and they write in such a way that even if they have to read it again it is difficult. Nobody should understand what they are writing. So Mulla Nasruddin went to a doctor and he said, ‘Listen, be plain. Just tell me the facts. Don’t use Latin and Greek.’ The doctor said, ‘If you insist, and if you allow me to be frank, you are not ill at all. You are just plain lazy.’ Nasruddin said, ‘Okay, thank you. Now write it in Greek and Latin so I can show it to my family.’

The clever have always been exploiting the common people. That’s why Buddha, Jesus and Mahavira were never respected by brahmins, scholars, clever ones, because they were destructive, they were destroying their whole business. If the people understand, then there is no need for the priest. Why?—because the priest is a mediator. He understands the language of God. He understands your language. He translates your language into the language of God. That’s why they say Sanskrit is DEV-BHASHA, the language of God: ‘You don’t know Sanskrit?—I know, so I become the intermediate link, I become the interpreter. You tell me what you want and I will say it in Sanskrit to God, because he understands only Sanskrit.’ And of course you have to pay for it.

— Osho (No Water, No Moon)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

There are stupid people who need esoteric fabrications, esoteric theorizations. Esotericism exists in the world because of the stupid human mind. Otherwise, everything has always been open, in front of you; nothing is hidden from the very beginning. How can truth be hidden? Maybe it cannot be expressed, but that doesn’t mean that it is hidden. It is just in front of your eyes. It is all over the place. It is everywhere, within and without.

But it is good to understand how foolish theorizations can arise out of simple things.

I love jokes. And there is no need to find any esoteric meaning in them. They are simple. But it is difficult to accept any simple thing.

Pope Pius XII of Rome is arriving at Heaven’s door. St. Peter opens, asks for his name and shakes his head, ‘Never heard.’ ‘So go to God-father, he will recognize me,’ the Pope demanded. Off St. Peter went. ‘Hey Boss, do you know a man called Pope Pius XII of Rome?’ ‘Never heard of him,’ is God-father’s answer. Peter, back at Heaven’s door: ‘He doesn’t know you.’ ‘So go and ask Jesus.’ St. Peter, already a little impatient, went off again: ‘Hey Junior, do you know a man called Pope Pius XII of Rome?’ Junior: ‘Never heard, never seen him.’ Off St. Peter went to tell the desperate Pope the message. ‘Do me a last favour,’ said the Pope, ‘ask the Holy Ghost.’ Peter sighed and back in Heaven he called the Holy Ghost: ‘Hello Smoky, do you know Pope Pius XII of Rome?’ Smoky, murmuring: ‘Pope Pius, Pope Pius XII of Rome… send him to Hell! That’s the guy who told that dirty story about Mary and me!’ This was the man who invented the story of how Mary became pregnant—without ever being in love with any man.

There are pundits and scholars, but remember: nobody will recognize you at Heaven’s gate.

Theories are just futile, but the mind craves and the mind wants to spin—around anything!

— Osho (The Discipline of Transcendence, Vol. 3)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

‘Osho, the word esoteric has been used in a very sacred sense. Would you please tell us what inspires you to use it in a ridiculous and humorous sense?’

The word esoteric means the hidden—it is ridiculous because nothing is hidden. All is obvious, God is obvious; if you cannot see, it is not because God is hidden, but because you are keeping your eyes closed. The sun is there, the light is there; if you keep your eyes closed and then you call the sun esoteric, that means you don’t even want to accept that you are keeping your eyes closed. You are throwing the responsibility onto the sun itself. ‘What can we do? If God is hidden, what can we do? It is his responsibility.’ Priests have loved the word esoteric very much because if God is obvious, then what will be the need for the priests? God has to be hidden. If he is not, then he has to be forced to hide somewhere! Then the need for the priest arises—a mediator who will make you aware of things which are hidden, who will help you, who will guide you to the secret world of the truth. Truth is very obvious. In Zen they have a saying: from the very beginning nothing is hidden. It is the declaration of truth; hence the word esoteric is ridiculous, stupid.

You ask, ‘The word esoteric has been used in a very sacred sense…’ There is nothing sacred either. Life is simple; there is nothing sacred and nothing secular. My whole effort here is to help you to dissolve the distinction between the sacred and the secular. The secular should become the sacred and the sacred should become the secular. That’s why I insist that you should remain part of the market world and meditate. Meditation should not be a thing apart from life; it should be amidst life, it should be a part of life, an organic part, nothing made separate. The temple should exist exactly in the middle of the market, and all distinctions between the sacred and the secular should be dissolved. Life is one. But again the priest comes in. He wants to make distinctions; he wants to tell you that your life is ugly, that your life is mundane, that you are a worldly being. He is spiritual; he is something superior beyond you, beyond your reach. He is holy, you are unholy; he is a saint and you are a sinner. These distinctions have to be created. These are ego distinctions: somebody is rich, somebody is poor—then the ego can exist. Somebody is holy and somebody is not holy—again the ego can exist. The ego can exist only through distinctions of inferiority and superiority. ‘This world is inferior.’ A man who lives an ordinary life—loves his wife, children, goes to work, is an ordinary human being condemned by the priests, by the so-called mahatmas. They exploit this same ordinary man, they live on him, they are suckers—but they are holy, they are spiritual. Their hands are never muddied because they don’t work, they don’t move into life. They remain far away; they are ‘holy.’ And the man who lives is ‘unholy.’

If you look deeply, you will find that the very word sacred is based on ego distinctions. What is sacred and what is not sacred? If God is everywhere, then everything is sacred. If God is in the rock and in the tree and in the man and in the woman, then everything is sacred. God is everywhere, in everything; God is the only reality—then how can anything not be divine? Even the Devil has to be divine. And that is the beauty of the word devil: it comes from the same root as divine. The Devil has to be divine otherwise he cannot be. I want to dissolve all distinctions because through distinctions egos exist. So I don’t say what is sacred and what is ordinary.

To me the ordinary is extraordinary, the mundane is sacred. Day-to-day life is holy life—hence I use the word esoteric as a ridiculous word. It hurts too many people because there are many people who think that if religion is obvious, then where will they find their ego trip? If everything is unhidden from the very beginning, then their ego has no challenge. Ego is challenged only by the difficult. This is my observation: if you find one hundred persons interested in religious inquiry, ninety-nine will be there only because God is almost impossible. That gives the thrill; that makes them feel good—that they are going to attain the impossible. Others are only working for the possible and they are working for the impossible. They feel very good; their ego is strengthened. Here with me, God is the only possibility; nothing else is possible. God is not impossible. He is just in front of you; he is not hidden. He is holding your hand; he is sitting by your side. He is in your child, in your wife, in your husband. He is in your friend, and he is in your foe. He surrounds you from everywhere: you exist in the ocean of God. But then the egoist feels dull. He says, ‘Then what is the point?’ The egoist wants to go to the moon because it is impossible. The egoist wants to go to Mt. Everest because it is impossible. When somebody asked Edmund Hillary, ‘Why? Why in the first place did you become interested in going to Mt. Everest? And what was the point? There was nothing to gain.’ Edmund Hillary said, ‘I had to go, man had to conquer it.’ ‘But why?’ the questioner asked. Hillary said, ‘Why? Because it is there, standing there so aloof, so impossible. Man had to conquer it for no other reason—just because it is a great challenge.’ When God is far away in the heavens the ego feels thrilled, then there is adventure. And when I say he is very close by, then the ego feels no interest. Remember this trip of the ego. Ego can play such beautiful games, such beautiful, subtle games, that if you are not aware, you will never get out of it. And unless you get out of it, you will never see God.

Ego is what I mean when I say your eyes are closed: it is the curtain of the ego that is keeping them closed. Drop the curtain and you will know that from the very beginning nothing is hidden, and there is nothing that is not sacred, so what is the point in making such distinctions? I don’t make them.

I am not a priest, I am not a mahatma; I am not a saint. I am a very ordinary person, as ordinary as you are. My whole work consists in this: to declare that ordinary human beings are divine. Ordinary human beings like me are divine. You are also divine.

— Osho (Tao: The Pathless Path, Vol. 1)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

‘Osho, why are you not getting bored while you are telling the same stories and the same jokes?’

Divakar Bharti, the first thing to be understood is that Divakar Bharti is an Indian, and Indians are absolutely unable to understand jokes! They don’t have any jokes in India. I have not come across a single Indian joke. Indians are serious people—spiritual people, religious people! They talk only of great things: God, heaven, hell, the theory of karma and rebirth. When you tell a joke to an Indian he feels offended… you see? He feels offended, insulted! You look at his face—he feels embarrassed. Talk about something esoteric—bullshit him!—and then he is perfectly happy. He never laughs, he cannot; laughter is beyond him. He has forgotten laughter. That’s why, Divakar, the question has arisen in you. Otherwise each joke, in a different context, is different. The joke in itself may be an old one—and in fact, there are no new jokes in the world. The proverb that there is nothing new under the sun may not be right about other things, but about jokes it is absolutely right. If Adam and Eve come back to the earth they will recognize only the jokes and nothing else! The same jokes, but the context goes on changing, and in a different context the same joke has a different meaning. But because you cannot understand the jokes you must be feeling bored.

G.C. Lichtenberg has a profound statement. He says: A person reveals his character by nothing so clearly as the joke he resents.

I have heard: It is said: The gravest fish is an oyster, the gravest bird is an owl, the gravest beast is a donkey, and the gravest man is an Indian fool. There are fools of all kinds, they come in all shapes and sizes, but the Indian is the best!

Each race reacts, responds differently about jokes… If you tell the German a joke, he laughs once, just to be polite. If you tell the same joke to a Frenchman he also laughs once because he understands immediately. If you tell the same joke to an Englishman he laughs twice: first to be polite, and second when in the middle of the night he gets it. If you tell the same joke to an American he laughs, but not loudly, and says that ‘I have heard it before!’ If you tell the same joke to a Jew, instead of laughing he says, ‘It is an old joke, and what is more, you are telling it all wrong!’

And I don’t feel bored because I cannot feel bored—it is simply impossible for me. I have completely forgotten how to feel bored! You can go on telling me the same joke again and again and I will always find some new meaning, some new nuance, some new color, some new dimension to it, but I cannot feel bored because I am no more. To feel bored you need the ego; it is the ego that feels bored. When the ego is no more there it is impossible to feel bored.

A simple-minded old woman had a cow that fell sick. In her distress she called the rabbi to pray for its recovery. To comfort the poor woman, the rabbi walked around the cow three times intoning, ‘If she dies, she dies, but if she lives, she lives.’ Happily the cow recovered. Some time later the rabbi became ill and the woman, recalling how he had cured her cow, visited him. She walked around his bed three times, solemnly repeating, ‘If he dies, he dies, but if he lives, he lives.’ Whereupon the rabbi burst out into sidesplitting laughter which soon led to his recovery.

I cannot feel bored—I am no more there. And I don’t remember what I have said to you yesterday, so how I can say the same joke again? It is never the same, it cannot be. I never remember what has been said by me, and I have been telling to people thousands of things for all these last twenty-five years. I never read any of my books, I never listen to any of my lectures—why should I feel bored?

But Divakar, you are in a wrong place here. This is not the place for serious people like you! You should find some old Hindu monastery.

The little red man woke up, opened up his little red curtains and looked out at the little red sunrise. He showered in his little red bathroom, put on his little red clothes and left his little red house. Getting into his little red car, he drove through the little red town to his little red office block. There he went up in the little red elevator to the tenth floor, walked along the little red corridor and entered his little red office. He sat down at his little red desk and read his little red newspaper. Deciding that his life was too boring to live any more, he took out a little red knife and slashed his little red wrists. Ten minutes later his little red secretary entered his little red office and found her little red boss covered in little red blood. She grabbed the little red telephone and phoned the little red hospital. Soon a little red ambulance arrived. The little red attendants rushed into the little red office, put the little red man on a little red stretcher and raced across the little red town to the little red hospital. Quickly they carried the little red man into the little red operating theater and placed him on a little red table. One minute later the door to the little red operating theater opened and in walked a little green man. ‘Sorry!’ he said. ‘I seem to have walked into the wrong joke!’ This is not a place for you—little red world, and you are a green man here! You have walked in a wrong joke, Divakar—walk out!

— Osho (I Am That—Isha Upanishad)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

Two women are talking in a tea room at four o’clock, over large gooey ice-cream sundaes and little sugary cakes. They have not seen each other since high-school days, and one is bragging about her very advantageous marriage. ‘My husband buys me whole new sets of diamonds when the ones I have get dirty,’ she says. ‘I never even bother to clean them.’ ‘Fantastic!’ says the other women. ‘Yes,’ says the first, ‘we get a new car every two months. None of this hire-purchase stuff! My husband buys them outright, and we give them to the Negro gardener and houseman and like that for presents.’ ‘Fantastic!’ says the other. ‘And our house,’ pursues the first, ‘well, what’s the use of talking about it? It’s just…’ ‘Fantastic!’ finishes the other. ‘Yes, and tell me, what are you doing nowadays?’ says the first woman. ‘I go to Charm School,’ says the other. ‘Charm School? Why, how quaint! What do you learn there?’ ‘Well, we learn to say ‘Fantastic’ instead of ‘Bullshit’!’

You can start calling bullshit ‘fantastic,’ but it makes no difference. You can learn religious, spiritual garbage… There are many people here too who are very expert in so-called esoteric jargon. They always talk of so many planes, so many bodies, so many centers… and they talk so seriously that it seems they know what they are talking about. Avoid esoteric garbage! Avoid esoteric knowledge! It is not knowledge, it is just to befool people. If you are interested in such things you should read the great literature that has been created by theosophists. Anything goes, you just have to talk in such a way that it seems otherworldly. It can neither be proved nor disproved. Now how can you prove how many planes there are? Seven or thirteen?

One man came to me. His religious sect believes in fourteen planes, and he had a chart, he had brought the chart. Mahavira has attained only to the fifth plane, Buddha to the sixth, Kabir, Nanak, to the ninth—because he was a Punjabi he had been a little generous with Nanak and Kabir. But his own Radhaswami guru, he has attained to the fourteenth! Even Buddha is just hanging around the sixth! And Mohammed, do you know where Mohammed is?—just the third! A Hindu and a Punjabi, how can you allow Mohammed to go beyond the third? He keeps him third-rate. Jesus he is a little more generous with—on the fourth; he places Jesus on the fourth. But his own guru—nobody knows about his guru—he has reached the fourteenth! The fourteenth is called SATCH-KHAND—the plane of truth. So I asked him, ‘What about the other thirteen?’ He said, ‘They are just coming closer and closer to truth, only approximately true.’ Now, can there be an approximate truth? Either something is true or something is not true. Either I am here in the chair or I am not in the chair—I cannot be approximately in the chair. So ‘approximate truth’ is a beautiful name for a lie. He had come to ask me what my opinion is about the fourteen planes. I said, ‘I have reached the fifteenth. And just as you are asking about the planes, your Radhaswami guru asks me again and again how to enter into the fifteenth.’ He was very angry. He said, ‘Never heard about the fifteenth plane!’ I said, ‘How can you hear? Your guru has only reached the fourteenth, so you have heard about fourteen. But I have reached the fifteenth!’

Just nonsense! But it can be presented in such a way that it looks very spiritual. Avoid!

— Osho (The Dhammapada: The Way of the Buddha, Vol. 1)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

Nobody else has used jokes in a spiritual way; hence sometimes people are shocked. When they come for the first time to listen to me, naturally they are shocked because they want to hear something very serious—as if they are not serious enough already! They want to hear something esoteric, something nonsensical, something which makes no sense to them; then they think there must be great meaning in it. When something is incomprehensible to them they think this is great philosophy! Whenever they come across something written in stupid jargon, esoteric, occult, spiritual, they become very much interested. They think they are going to find some treasure in it. The treasure is not hidden in big words, the treasure is hidden in you. And it is to be discovered, not through big words, it is to be discovered through wordlessness, it is to be discovered through silence. And haven’t you felt after deep laughter that a sudden silence comes to you in the wake of it?—the silence after a storm. For a moment it is as if the mind stops functioning… you are utterly relaxed, in a deep rest. Those are the moments when you start feeling the presence of God. Those are the first glimpses that God is. There is no other proof.

— Osho (The Dhammapada: The Way of the Buddha, Vol. 12)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

After each laughter, there is a deeper layer of silence revealing itself to you. It is almost like being on a road, and a car passes with its headlights on. Suddenly there is light where there was darkness. But once the car has gone, the darkness becomes darker. Something almost similar happens; hence I have started calling my jokes ‘the time for prayer.’

Herman Levinsky is standing in front of the gorilla’s cage in the zoo one day, when the wind blows a piece of grit into his eye. As Herman pulls down his eyelid to remove the particle, the gorilla goes crazy, bends open the bars and beats the poor fellow senseless. When Herman regains consciousness, he explains to the anxious zookeeper what happened. The zookeeper nods sagely and explains that in gorilla language, pulling down the eyelid means, ‘Fuck you!’ This explanation doesn’t make Herman feel any better, and he swears revenge. The next day, Herman arrives at the zoo with two large knives, two hats, two whistles and a large sausage. Putting the sausage in his pants, he hurries to the gorilla’s cage, into which he throws a knife, a hat and a whistle. Then Herman puts on his hat. The gorilla looks at him, looks at the hat, and puts it on. Next, Herman picks up the whistle and blows it. The gorilla looks at him, looks at the whistle, and then picks it up and blows it. Then Herman picks up the knife, whips the sausage out of his pants, and slices it neatly in two. The gorilla looks at the knife in his cage, looks at his prick, looks up, and pulls down his eyelid.

— Osho (Om Mani Padme Hum)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

‘Osho, has anyone ever become enlightened while listening to a joke? Maybe there is hope for me yet!’

Anand Jean, the first thing is: nobody ever becomes enlightened. People become unenlightened, that is true, but nobody ever becomes enlightened. Just when one gets tired of becoming unenlightened again and again, day in, day out, year in, year out, life in, life out, then one day one says, ‘It is enough. I should stop becoming unenlightened.’ And that is the moment one is enlightened. Enlightenment is natural, unenlightenment is something that you are doing. So nobody really ever becomes enlightened. One only discovers that ‘I need not do a few things which I have always been doing and which have been preventing me from seeing who I am.’ And this can happen in any situation. It has happened in strange situations.

Mahavira became enlightened in a very strange posture. Jainas have given it a name… they must have been hiding the truth, because their name says that he was sitting in a GODOHASAN. Godohasan means the posture in which you milk the cow. Now, what was he doing? He was not milking a cow, certainly. He had no cow, so what was he doing in that posture? Strange fellow this Mahavira! You can understand what he was doing—I will not tell you, because if I say it all the Jainas will say I am destroying their culture. But the question is worth asking: What was he doing? One thing is certain, they cannot agree that he was milking a cow because he had dispossessed everything. Sitting naked in a GODOHASAN, what was he doing? And he became enlightened! People have become enlightened in all kinds of situations, because it is only a question of understanding. It can happen any moment. Yes, sitting on your toilet seat… Mahavira was a little old-fashioned. And in fact when you are sitting on the toilet seat, GREAT thoughts arise.

So what is wrong in becoming enlightened while listening to a joke? When you are really in laughter your ego disappears; both together are not possible. That’s why the egoist becomes incapable of laughing. Even if he tries, that is just an exercise of his lips, nothing more than that. How can he do such a worldly thing? so mundane, so ordinary? Laughing?—impossible.

Christians say Jesus never laughed. They cannot believe Jesus laughing, because to laugh means to be human, too human. They can believe Jesus walking on water—that’s perfectly okay; Jesus raising the dead—that is really great; Jesus coming alive after crucifixion—all these stupidities can be believed in… but Jesus never laughed! If it is true, then I will say that is the only miracle he did. But it is not true. I can say from my own experience: it is not true. It cannot be true! Even if Jesus says he never laughed, I’m not going to listen to him. Jesus and not laughing? Then who else will be able to laugh? this beautifully ridiculous existence, this whole absurd, but so beautiful life, and Jesus not laughing? I cannot believe that. Jesus must have laughed, loved, shared jokes. They may not have been compiled—that shows the mind of the compilers—but Jesus was a very earthly man, loved eating, drinking, gossiping, because what was he doing? Every night his disciples and friends would gather and eat and drink for hours, till the late hours; only in the morning would they go to sleep. What was he doing all this time? You cannot just go on eating and drinking. You can see that this man has not eaten so much; you can look at pictures of him. If he was just eating and drinking he would look like an elephant! But he looks so proportionate; he must have been gossiping, sharing jokes, laughing.

In fact, only an enlightened person can have a real sense of humor.

So there is no problem, Anand Jean, you can become enlightened listening to a joke. And I am giving you, every day, opportunities to become enlightened. Listen to these jokes and give it a try. Who knows? Enlightenment is always unpredictable—it may happen today. But don’t expect it. These are the problems with enlightenment: if you expect, you miss. Such strange conditions are attached to enlightenment: if you expect you miss, if you desire you miss. So don’t expect that it is going to happen; just sit relaxed and listen to the joke. It may happen, it may not.

The marriage between the elderly farmer and his young wife was not working out too well, so the farmer consulted his doctor for advice. ‘The next time you are down in the field plowing and feel a yearning for your wife,’ said the doctor, ‘don’t wait until lunchtime or the end of the day, but quit what you are doing and go to the house!’ ‘I tried that,’ said the farmer, ‘but by the time I get to the house, I am so tuckered out it is no use.’ The doctor thought for a minute. ‘Take your shotgun with you when you leave the house in the morning, and if you feel the urge, shoot the gun and she will come down there where you are.’ A few weeks later the two men met on the street. ‘How did it work?’ asked the doctor. ‘Fine… the first three days,’ said the farmer, ‘then the hunting season opened and I haven’t seen her since.’

Giuseppe, an immigrant to the United States works very hard his whole life and finally makes it to his sixty-fifth birthday when he can apply for benefits. He goes down to the Social Security office to apply, but when he gets there the girl behind the desk tells him that he must bring his birth certificate to prove his age. He does not have a birth certificate so, dejected, he goes home. Suddenly, he gets an idea and rushes back to the office. He sees the girl, runs over to her and pulls open his shirt to display his grey hair. ‘You must be sixty-five,’ she says, ‘with all that grey hair on your chest!’ Giuseppe is very pleased and rushes home to tell his wife that he will receive the benefits. ‘How-a did-a you get-ta it?’ asks Maria. ‘I opened my shirt-a like this-a and showed her all-a my grey hair!’ ‘You idiot-a! You blew-a it!’ screams Maria. ‘You should-a have opened your trousers and-a applied-a for the disability pension!’

A man was attending a banquet held in his honor at the local Rotary Club. At the end of the supper he had to give a short speech. He was really nervous because he was not good at public speaking, so he asked his wife to pinch him every time he started bungling his speech. Immediately after he had finished his ice cream, he got up from his chair and began, ‘Ladies and gentleman, I am overwhelmed, I shudder with emotion from top to bottom… ouch!’ his wife pinched him. He stopped talking and thought for a moment, then began again, ‘Sincerely, gentlemen, I feel emotional chills invading my soul… ouch!’ another pinch and a moment’s consideration, then, ‘Seriously, gentlemen, this is the most thrilling time of my life…’ There was another pinch from his wife, but this time he turned to her and asked, ‘What’s wrong, honey? I’m telling the truth… I’m not saying something stupid, am I?’ ‘The problem is,’ said his wife, ‘that your fly is open!’ He turned white and she continued, ‘and your balls are sitting inside your ice cream dish!’

— Osho (Philosophia Ultima)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

‘Osho, how many gay guys are needed to screw in a light bulb?’

Almasto, are you mad or something? Why are you after these poor light bulbs? And never give this idea to the gay guys, because as far as screwing is concerned whatsoever they do will be wrong—they will always do it wrong! So have mercy on the poor light bulbs! And can’t you think of any other question? Where are we going to find so many sockets for so many light bulbs? You go on producing light bulbs and I have to produce sockets for you… There has to be an end to everything. Now you have come across this great idea, ‘How many gay guys are needed…?’ They are not needed at all!

— Osho (Zen: Zest, Zip, Zap and Zing)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

‘Beloved master, are all jokes irrational?’

Devageet, it is not that all jokes are irrational. You cannot even find one joke that is irrational. But the joke has its own psychology and rationality. The psychology of the joke has to be understood and then the rationality of it will be clear.

Man is so repressed that he cannot even speak certain words; he is utterly inhibited. The joke starts with ordinary words, but takes a sudden turn and catches you unawares. And that sudden turn you could not have expected; that’s why all your repressed mind, your inhibitions suddenly explode. Nobody has used jokes for cleaning your mind. It is a catharsis. The moment you see the point, suddenly you say, ‘My God, I was going towards a certain rational conclusion…’ The joke turns at a point where you would not have expected it. That sudden turn makes you forget all your rationality, all your logic, all your language. In a split moment you are suddenly like a child. You must have noted, the jokes are only concerned with the repressed parts of your being. It is a revenge—revenge by the powerless against the powerful. They kill you, they destroy you, but you can do it better without weapons, just by a single joke!

Jokes have a beauty of their own, because they bring laughter to you. And to me laughter is the moment when the mind stops, time stops and you are suddenly overwhelmed by a new energy, a new delight. These are simple glimpses to prepare you for the ultimate laughter.

It is said about Bodhidharma that the first thing he did after his enlightenment was, he laughed loudly. Again and again it was asked of him why he laughed; there was no visible reason for it. He said, ‘I laughed because I was searching myself, and I was going round and round everywhere except within myself. Existence has played a great joke on me.’

Certainly jokes are not irrational. Just look at the rationality of the jokes:

Bridget, the Irish prostitute, has just finished ‘servicing’ her client, an English gentleman. She asks him, ‘Hey, you don’t have that terrible AIDS disease, do you?’ ‘No,’ replies the gentleman, doing up his shoelaces, ‘I get a medical check each week, I’m definitely clean.’ ‘Oh good,’ replies Bridget. ‘Thank God for that, I wouldn’t like to be getting that again!’

What did the hurricane say to the palm tree? ‘Hang on to your nuts, this is no ordinary blow job!’

While waiting for Ronald Reagan’s press conference to start, one reporter approaches a man standing in the corner of the hall. ‘Hey,’ he says, ‘have you heard the latest Ronald Reagan joke?’ The man gives him an icy stare. ‘Before you tell it,’ he says, ‘I must inform you that I work in the White House as his personal secretary.’ ‘Thanks for the warning,’ says the reporter, ‘I will tell it very, very, very slowly.’

On an Italian airplane flying over the ocean, the pilot tells the passengers to enjoy the flight and that they can expect to reach their destination in four hours. Three hours later the captain has another announcement. ‘Folks,’ he says, ‘I have got-a good-a news and-a bad-a news. First the bad-a news: We are-a lost. Now the good-a news: we are-a making hella-va good-a time!’

Devageet, I have never come across any joke—and perhaps I have come across many more jokes than any living or dead man… There is a certain strange turning at the end, but it is not irrational. It is how human beings function, how their minds function. Every joke has a great reason. It is connected with your unconscious and the society’s torture of humanity. It brings it out in the open—in no other way can it be released—and you can be unburdened. This unburdening, this relief is the very reason of every joke.

— Osho (Hari Om Tat Sat: The Divine Sound - That Is the Truth)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

Two fleas were sitting on their deck chairs on the beach in Miami, Florida. It was January, the weather was warm, and the fleas were lazing around with a cool drink, suntan lotion smeared over their bodies. Their quiet was interrupted by a third flea who came in and sat down on a deck chair next to them. He was rugged up in heavy boots, an overcoat, hat and gloves, and still he was shivering. ‘Why are you dressed for the Antarctic in the middle of the summer?’ one of the fleas asked him. ‘Oh,’ moaned the third flea, ‘I found myself in the beard of a hippie when he mounted his motorcycle back in the bitter cold and snow of Detroit, Michigan. He drove non-stop for two whole days to get here. I’m chilled to the bone!’ ‘Next winter,’ said one of the fleas, ‘go to the penthouse of an expensive apartment building during a cocktail party. There you are bound to find someone wealthy who is going south for the winter, and you can go in style!’ A year later the same fleas were sitting on the beach in Miami when the other flea approached them, still wearing a heavy overcoat and shivering violently. ‘What happened to you? Why didn’t you take my advice?’ asked the flea. ‘I did take your advice,’ grumbled the freezing insect. ‘I got to a penthouse and found a cocktail party going on. I located a beautiful lady, wearing furs and expensive jewelry. I knew she would be going south in high style, so I climbed onto her toe, up her ankle, up her calf, up her thigh, and then I came to a lovely warm spot, and I knew I would be going south in style. The next thing I knew, I was inside the beard of a hippie who drove straight through non-stop in the bitter cold!’

This reminds me of Almasto and her questions—she is back again to her questions. ‘Osho, why do they sell so many lightbulbs in Iran?’ Because they always try to fit them in with a hammer. This is called the Islamic revolution! ‘How many Tibetans does it take to fit in a lightbulb?’ None. They have not heard of lightbulbs yet in Tibet. ‘How many Chinese does it take to screw in a lightbulb?’ None. You are not allowed to screw in China these days. ‘Why does it take a Russian so long to screw in a lightbulb?’ Because first he has to have a five-year plan. ‘Why was the Polack Pope horrified when taking up his office in the Vatican for the first time?’ Almasto, he saw a lightbulb lying in a wastepaper basket next to his desk and he was horrified—he thought it was a contraceptive.

And the last… A Brahmin priest was cycling down a country lane. He rounded a bend and was surprised to find a little boy screwing a rabbit. The priest, without hesitation, jumped off his bicycle, grabbed the boy by the hair and gave him a good talking to. He was really furious and asked the boy, ‘What are you doing?’ The boy said: ‘AUM PURNAMADAH PURNAMIDAM PURNAT PURNAMUDACHYATE PURNASYA PURNAMADAYA PURNAMEVA VASHISYATE.’ This was really too much! The priest gave the boy a good beating, got back on his bicycle and went on. A few miles further up the road he spied an old man atop a grassy verge screwing a goat. The priest was utterly shocked and he stormed over to the old man. ‘Not two miles back down the road,’ he yelled, ‘I found a little boy doing exactly the same thing with a rabbit! You should know better at your age!’ The old man looked up at the priest with a grin and said, ‘Do you expect me to catch a rabbit at my age?’ The priest looked at the sky and said: ‘AUM PURNAMADAH PURNAMIDAM PURNAT PURNAMUDACHYATE PURNASYA PURNAMADAYA PURNAMEVA VASHISYATE.’

— Osho (Philosophia Ultima)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

‘Beloved master, why do I take myself and everything so seriously?’

Prembodhi, the ego can exist only if you take yourself and everything seriously. Nothing kills the ego like playfulness, like laughter. When you start taking life as fun, the ego has to die, it cannot exist anymore. Ego is illness; it needs an atmosphere of sadness to exist. Seriousness creates the sadness in you. Sadness is a necessary soil for the ego. Hence your saints are so serious, for the simple reason that they are the most egoistic people on the earth. They may be trying to be humble, but they are very proud of their humbleness. They take their humbleness very seriously.

The real saint cannot be serious. The really religious person has to be a celebrant. Just look around… look at the trees—are they serious? Look at the birds, listen to them—are they serious? Look at the stars, the moon, the sun—are they serious? Existence is utterly nonserious; it goes on dancing. It is an eternal celebration, it is a festivity. Only man is serious, because only man has been trying to create a separation between himself and existence. He doesn’t want to be part of the whole, because then he disappears. He wants his own identity, his own name, his own form, his definition. Even if it creates misery it is okay, even if he has to live in hell he is ready for it. Once George Bernard Shaw was asked where he would like to go after he dies—to hell or to heaven. He said, ‘Wherever I can be the first, I don’t want to be the second’—and in heaven there is no chance to be the first, because so many saints have already reached there: Jesus and Zarathustra and Mahavira and Buddha. Who will take note of poor George Bernard Shaw? He is willing to go to hell if he can be the first there.

Ego wants to be the first, ego wants to put everybody below itself; hence it takes itself seriously. Hence it is perfectionist: it demands perfection, which is impossible. Nobody is perfect; nobody can exist for a single moment if he is perfect. Imperfection is the way of life, because it is possible to grow only if you are imperfect. If you are perfect there is no more growth, no more evolution. If you are perfect you are stuck. Perfection means death; imperfection means flow, growth, movement, dynamism. The ego demands perfection of oneself and of others too. It asks for the impossible, and because the impossible cannot be achieved it can go on living. It is not happy with the ordinary; it wants the extraordinary, and life consists only of the ordinary. But the ordinary is beautiful, the ordinary is exquisite. There is no need of anything extraordinary. The ordinary life is sacred, but the ego condemns it as mundane. It demands extraordinary life. Hence all the religions go on inventing stories about their founders which are all untrue: Moses separating the sea, Jesus walking on the water… all these stories are inventions, lies, created by the followers just to prove that their master is extraordinary; he is not an ordinary human being. In fact, the truth is that you cannot find a more ordinary human being than Buddha, Mahavira, Jesus, Moses, Zarathustra, Lao Tzu. They are so simple! They have accepted themselves as they are. They live in suchness, in TATHATA. They don’t hanker for any perfection. They are perfectly at ease with the imperfect world, utterly contented with it. And they don’t take themselves so seriously that they have to attain to great heights, great peaks, that they have to surpass everybody. They are not insane! They are beautiful people, and their beauty consists in having accepted the ordinary as the extraordinary, the mundane as sacred.

Prembodhi, you ask, ‘Why do I take myself and everything so seriously?’ Everybody takes himself and others seriously. That’s the way of the ego to exist. Start being a little more playful and you will see ego evaporating. Take life nonseriously, as a joke—yes, as a cosmic joke. Laugh a little more. Laughter is far more significant than prayer. Prayer may not destroy your ego; on the contrary, it may make it holy, pious, but laughter certainly destroys your ego. When you are really in a state of laughter, have you observed?—the ego disappears for a moment. You are again a child, giggling. Again you have forgotten that you are special. You are no longer serious; for a moment you have removed your fixation. That’s why I love jokes—they are poison to your ego! You would like me to talk about serious things: astral planes and how many bodies men have, seven or nine, and how many chakras. And every day there are questions—esoteric, occult. These are the serious people. They have fallen in a wrong company! I am not serious at all. I don’t laugh with you because that is part of telling a joke: the person who tells it has to be very serious, he cannot laugh with you. All my laughter I have to do alone. But my approach towards life is utterly nonserious, playful, because in my experience this is how the ego disappears. Watch when you laugh: where is the ego? Suddenly you have melted, suddenly you are liquid, no more solid, but flowing. You are not old, experienced, knowledgeable. Listen to this joke and try to find out whether the ego remains or not.

Shortly after arriving at their honeymoon suite, the still nervous groom became worried about the state of his bride’s innocence. Deciding on the direct approach, he quickly undressed, pointed at his exposed manhood, and asked his mate, ‘Do you know what that is?’ Without hesitating, she blushed and answered, ‘That’s a wee-wee.’ Delighted at the idea of instructing his naive wife, the husband whispered, ‘From now on, dearest, this will be called a prick.’ ‘Ah, come now,’ the girl chided, ‘I’ve seen lots of pricks, and I assure you, that’s a wee-wee.’

— Osho (The Dhammapada: The Way of the Buddha, Vol. 10)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

‘Osho, why I get very angry at your jokes sometimes?’

Sandip, my jokes are meant to do many things, different things to different people. Few people will get angry if their egos are hurt. And nothing can hurt the ego more deeply than a joke. It goes like an arrow and it goes in such a subtle way that there is no protection against it. There is no shield yet invented that can protect you against it. It is the subtlest weapon yet found. But rather than getting angry with me, try to understand: some wound is touched, some wound is opened, some pus has started flowing out. And you don’t want that your wounds should be touched, you don’t want that your pus should be taken out. You want to forget all about the wounds and the pus. But forgetting is not going to help; the pus has to be taken out. My job is very thankless because many times it hurts, it is painful. And I use jokes in many ways. I use them as weapons, and they are so sharp that no sword can be so sharp as a joke. And it is told in such a humorous way that you cannot fight with it—it will look so stupid. You have to swallow it, but then it starts working.

Sometimes to some people my jokes will bring tears because they are carrying much repressed suffering in them. And when tears come listening to a joke, one feels really puzzled, that a joke should bring laughter, why is it bringing tears? Many people have written to me that ‘It is strange. You are telling a joke and my tears start flowing!’ There is nothing strange in it, there is a logic behind it. You have always laughed just to hide your tears. Friedrich Nietzsche used to say that ‘Don’t ask me why I go on laughing on small things. I go on laughing because if I don’t laugh I will start weeping. To avoid that embarrassing situation I go on laughing. I keep myself occupied with laughing.’ Listening a joke, ordinarily laughter should come, but you may have repressed so many tears that instead of laughter, as you relax with me with the joke, tears start welling up.

Sometimes you become serious—rather than becoming hilarious you become serious. There are a few people who go on writing to me that ‘Why it happens? We become serious. When everybody is laughing we suddenly become very serious.’ The reason is that it is easy to laugh at others, but sometimes a joke is not about others; it is about you, exactly about you. It fits you and you cannot laugh at yourself. You become serious, you become uptight. And, moreover, seriousness is more fulfilling to the ego than laughter. When you see thousands of people laughing and you sitting serious, it feels very good that you are something holy, saintly, and these are just ordinary people laughing. How can you laugh? You have not come here to laugh, you have come here to attain enlightenment!

To different people different things are possible. To few people even enlightenment is possible through laughter. That too is going to happen. I see many people coming very close, but then they become afraid. Just one step more… but they shrink back. They laugh only to a certain extent—they laugh only to the extent they can control it. When they see that now it is going beyond their control they immediately shrink back, they start holding back. If they allow it to happen, the laughter will become their enlightenment.

Sandip, don’t be worried. Whatsoever happens, whatsoever emotions, moods a joke creates in you, watch it.

A Rajneesh sannyasin comes to the pearly gates. St. Peter is on duty. He looks at the sannyasin and says, ‘Sorry, man, you are too early. Can’t you orange people get it right ever? You have to go back to the earth.’ ‘Can’t I have a look around since I have come all this way?’ says the sannyasin. ‘All right,’ says Peter, ‘any special wishes?’ ‘Well,’ says the swami, ‘I would like to see Jesus.’ ‘Oh, so you do believe in him,’ sniggers St. Peter. ‘As I am here I might as well check him out,’ says the sannyasin. ‘He is not in a good mood,’ says Peter. ‘but I will have a look.’ ‘He is not in a good mood?’ asks the astonished sannyasin. ‘Does that happen in heaven too? I thought things would be much different up here.’ ‘Well,’ says Peter, ‘you know, we have a direct communication with the earth so we listen to Osho’s daily lectures. And when Jesus hears those jokes about himself he just gets so pissed off!’

— Osho (Zen: The Special Transmission)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

When anyone has realized his buddhahood, his enlightenment, his immortality, the first thing that has happened is laughter. Laughter at himself, because he was seeking and searching for millions of years for something that he himself was. You can seek the other, but you cannot seek yourself. You can be separate from the other, but you cannot be separate from yourself. There is a possibility of distance between you and the other, but there is no possibility of distance between you and you. This is one part: one realizes the hilarious situation, that buddhas are trying to be buddhas. Naturally a great laughter arises.

From the other side also it is true. If a great laughter arises for any reason, or no reason, suddenly your mind stops, your time stops. Those are the basic preconditions needed to experience your buddha-nature—only for a moment, of course, because it is not through awareness that you have obtained buddhahood, but through laughter. But laughter gives you both keys, as if for a single moment in the middle of the night the sun rises and all is light.

Laughter has a tremendous spiritual value. No religion has accepted it. In fact, all religions have condemned it. I can understand their condemnation: they don’t want you all to be buddhas. They don’t want you even to have a glimpse of who you are, because once the glimpse has happened you cannot remain in the old, miserable agony, anguish. You know that if time and mind stop, you are more than you can ask for… utter serenity, peacefulness, blissfulness, love, sensitivity and a sense of belonging to the universe—not just as an accident, but as an essential part. The religions have taught people to be serious. It is a very cunning strategy. It is preventing you from having glimpses which ultimately culminate in the realization of your own self.

The moment you are a buddha, you are free from all religions, free from all scriptures, free from all dogmas… sheer freedom and love; a fresh breeze that never goes stale; a fragrance that goes on and on and on from eternity to eternity; a dance in which you are not alone, the whole existence participates: the birds sing on their instruments, the trees bring flowers of different colors. That is their way of contributing… poor trees, but their flowers are more precious than any stones, than even the Kohinoor, because the Kohinoor is a dead stone and a roseflower is a living reality. The whole existence in some way or other contributes to your dance.

Your question is, ‘The other day when you said we look like Gautam Buddhas when we laugh…’ I did not say you look like Gautam Buddhas, I said you ARE Gautam Buddhas when you laugh. Just look at the cunningness of the mind, its cowardliness. It cannot roar like a lion and say, ‘I am the buddha!’ At the most it can say, ‘I think, perhaps… I may be a buddha, in some future life.’

You are saying, ‘… a big let-go happened deep inside me and I cried for a long time.’ That was beautiful. Some window opened, perhaps for a split second, and you realized what you can be and what you have become. You can be a buddha, which is your reality, and you have become a beggar, which is not your reality. Gautam Buddha used to say to his disciples, ‘I will take away all that you are not and I will give you all that you are, and the whole transformation is complete.’ Tears came. Tears have a beauty if they come out of a joyful moment, out of a let-go. Then they are almost like flowers, dewdrops shining in the morning sun. And they cleanse you of all rubbish, of all garbage, of all crap that your so-called religions, professors, preachers—and there are all kinds of peddlers around—have imposed upon you. For a moment you slipped out of their prison and you saw the full-moon night—just for a moment. The experience was so precious, you could give your whole life for that experience. But you don’t have anything else to give; it is not yours. Life already belongs to the eternal life. But you can shower with tears your gratitude, your prayer, your thankfulness. Words are very small; they cannot say what tears can say. Tears are silent, but still say something immense. If they come out of joy, they are the most precious experiences. They will cleanse not only your outer eyes, they will cleanse your inner eye too. They will give you a clarity.

— Osho (Hari Om Tat Sat: The Divine Sound - That Is the Truth)

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

When you laugh you all look almost like Gautam Buddhas. When you sit silently, you look like a congregation in a church!

Mendel Kravitz arrives at a cabaret club and asks the doorman who he should see to get a booking for his singing act. ‘You should see the concert secretary,’ says the doorman. ‘By the way, you’re not a hypnotist, are you?’ Mendel assures him that he is not, and goes in. The concert secretary looks up suspiciously and says, ‘I hope you are not going to tell me you’re a hypnotist, are you?’ Mendel assures him he is only a singer, and is sent to find the organist for a tryout. The organist likes the songs but looks uneasily at Mendel. ‘You don’t do any side acts by chance, do you?’ he asks. ‘No hypnotism for instance?’ Mendel is tired of the question and demands an explanation. ‘Well,’ says the organist, ‘last week we had a hypnotist here. He was so good that he had at least two hundred of the audience in a trance.’ ‘What’s wrong with that?’ asks Mendel. ‘Nothing,’ continues the organist, ‘but half way through his act, he fell over the microphone, hurt his foot, and yelled out, ‘Shit!’ The cleaners have only just cleaned the hall.’

Kowalski and his wife are celebrating their thirty-first wedding anniversary. As a surprise he comes home with a little monkey. ‘What’s that?’ asks his wife. ‘It’s a monkey,’ replies Kowalski. ‘What did you think it was? This is my anniversary present to you.’ ‘You are crazy!’ she cries. ‘What are we gonna do with a monkey?’ ‘Well,’ says Kowalski, ‘he’s gonna eat with us, he’s gonna sleep with us…’ ‘Sleep with us?’ shouts Mrs. Kowalski. ‘What about the smell?’ ‘Listen,’ says Kowalski, ‘after twenty-five years, if I could get used to it, so will the monkey.’

— Osho (Hari Om Tat Sat: The Divine Sound - That Is the Truth)